A Cybertron for All
by Triscribe
Summary: There was a War - but the titles Autobot and Decepticon never entered into into it. Instead, Cybertronians across the planet worked together to push the Quintesson invaders back off of their homeworld, and succeeded. Now the brothers Optimus Prime and Megatron are rebuilding Cybertron - not aided by the shenanigans of their respective offspring, Bumblebee and Dragonfly.


_Author's Note: I'm a terrible person. Months of inactivity, and the first thing I'm posting since March isn't an update for one of my other tales, but an entirely new story. Hopefully, people will enjoy this enough that they don't hate me, but, well... Writing's been hard the last few months. It normally serves as a coping mechanism for me, but some stuff came up with the end of the school year approaching that threw all of my normal habits out of whack._

 _Anyway, I've been putting pieces of this together for a few days now, to try and get my creative juices flowing again. I think it's been successful, but at any rate it'll still be a little while before I start posting chapters on other works again._

 _It has taken way too long for me to get around to posting the first of my Transformers stories on this site - here's to hoping this one starts things off on a good note._

 _-Triscribe_

 ** _A Cybertron for All_**

"Tag! You're it!" The bright yellow mechlet yelled, his servo barely scraping his cousin's shoulder guard. Instantly, the pair of younglings reversed their direction, sprinting back down the long, opulent hallway. Holo-portraits of their family members engaged in great acts of heroism sped by as the two giggled and ran, until they came to a massive staircase with dual bannisters on either side. The mechlet continued onwards, jumping down the steps two at a time, while the green and silver femmeling instead leaped upwards, catching her delicate servos on one of the railings.

Bumblebee yelped in surprise as his cousin Dragonfly whizzed by, laughing as she balanced precariously on the slippery chrome bannister. He chuckled as well, swerving away from her as the two of them reached the bottom of the staircase. Giving chase, Fly pursued her cousin through the entry hall, dodging the estate servants and visiting government staff alike until they turned again and ducked through the meeting chambers.

Fortunately, the only Cybertronians present at the time were a pair of startled Enforcers, laying out data packets for their presentation later that day-cycle. One grinned as the pair of younglings came through like a lightning storm, while the other's lip-components merely twitched upwards for a brief moment.

"Hi Prowl! Hi 'Cade!" Bumblebee called out as he ran underneath the table, then doubled back around for the doorway.

"Bye Prowl! Bye 'Cade!" Dragonfly waved to them as she hurried after her cousin. Chuckling as the little ones left again, Barricade nudged his brother's mid section.

"Don't you miss when Smokey and Blue were that size?" He asked with a sly grin. Prowl merely rolled his optics, returning to the task at hand.

"As I recall, neither of them ever caused as much chaos as those two. I don't understand why Prime or Megatron never hire on a nanny-bot to watch out for their respective creations."

"Probably because Elita-One forbid them from doing anything that could put a stint on those younglings' having fun while they're still in their second-frames. After all, once they get a little older, those two are going to start being involved in their creators' politics."

Prowl muted a groan, envisioning the woes of having a pair of hyper younglings starting to sit in on Council meetings. They'd be lucky to have only a twenty percent loss of productivity at such events...

Meanwhile, the very pair he was lamenting over had just raced through the dining hall, nearly causing several collisions and leaving quite a few servants shaking their helms in an exasperated manner. Dragonfly had managed to tag Bumblebee again, and was proceeding to lead her cousin in a merry chase back towards the rear of the building. Just as the slim femmeling took a tight turn around a corner, though, she crashed faceplate first into a set of thick, silver leg struts. Landing on her rear, Fly didn't have time to call back a warning before Bee made the same turn and tripped over her, creating a tangled mess of youngling limbs.

Laughing quietly, Megatron knelt to help sort out his now frowning creation and brother-son, getting the pair back on their pedes looking no worse for wear.

"Thanks, Uncle." Bumblebee said with a sheepish grin.

"Of course, little one." The large mech rumbled down at them. "Now, what has the two of you in such a hurry?"

"We're playing Tag!" Dragonfly smiled broadly up at her Creator. "Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to, sparklet, but-"

"I'm afraid the three of us are needed in an important meeting in just a few breems." A lighter voice came from behind Megatron. Bee felt his spark warm at his creators' approach, as Elita and Optimus stopped beside the small group. The yellow and green femme crouched to hug her creation, even as her larger bondmate bent only slightly to run a servo over Bee's helm.

"Can we play together afterwards?" Fly asked, turning her optics back and forth between her Creator and his younger brother. Optimus and Megatron exchanged bemused glances.

"We'll see, little ones." The Prime smiled slightly, before gently nudging the other adults back to their pedes. "It might be a while, but I promise we'll try to do something fun together once the three of us are done, alright?"

"Okay!" The younglings chirped in unison, before Bumblebee turned to his cousin. "So, am I still it, or are you, since I fell on you?" Dragonfly thought for a moment, tiny digits tapping on the side of her faceplate.

"I am, but-!" In a mere klik, the femmeling reached out and tapped the startled mechlet. "You're it again!" With that, she took off down the hallway, Bee grumbling but running after her a few moments later. The adults all laughed at the ploy, before continuing on their route to the meeting chambers. They were a tad early for the actual gathering of security heads and resource managers, but Prowl had expressed some concerns when arranging for the presentation and wished to discuss them in private with the trio of planetary leaders.

Passing through the entry hall, Megatron took a brief moment to cast his eye over the newly built statue of his and Optimus' creators, Sentinel and Artemis. The pair had been early casualties in a war with Quintesson invaders decavorns before, victims to the same ambush that had crippled Sentinel's elder sibling Alpha Trion and forced the young brothers into becoming the leaders that the were now. The five-faced tyrants had nearly succeeded in claiming all of Cybertron as their personal domain, as had been the case in an era previous to current records. Were it not for the resistance efforts of Optimus, Megatron and many of their now close friends and allies, no Cybertronian would have retained their own free will.

The war lasted over two hundred vorns, but it had since been a further forty since the last Quintessons were killed or driven off the planet, and since then reconstruction efforts had managed to restore most of Cybertron. There remained, though, many of the resource distribution issues that had existed even before the invasion, and Megatron knew his brother constantly feared that violence may break out between Cybertronians, once again covering their world in conflict.

That same fear lay within several of their staff members, hence the meeting today between many of the key figures in resource management and planetary security. In his youth, Megatron may very well have scoffed at such paranoia, and skipped the meeting altogether. Now, though, after seeing the effects of war, he was a different mech.

And of course, there was the matter of his young creation playing tag with her cousin in the back of the estate. There was no precaution Megatron wouldn't take to ensure Dragonfly never had to see the same horrors that he did in the battles against the Quintessons.

-ACfA-

"I'm bored." Bumblebee stated, seated on the floor with his back struts leaning against the wall. Dragonfly made a noise of agreement from her sprawled position across his stretched out legs. The two had spent almost a full joor playing tag since their creators went off to the meeting, and finally wound up collapsing inside Bee's berth room.

Picking her helm up slightly, Fly glanced over at her cousin. "Wanna paint?"

The mechlet thought about it for a moment. "No."

"Watch a vid?"

"Nah."

"Listen to music?"

"Nope."

Letting her helm drop back down, Dragonfly was silent, before voicing her only other suggestion. "We could sneak into the vents and go spy on the meeting."

"Nah, we did that a couple orns ago. I think Red Alert knows something's up."

"Well, I'm all out of ideas, then. What do _you_ want to do?"

"...Wait here until they're done?" Both younglings thought about that for a few kliks, before simultaneously sighing. A sudden voice chuckled from the open doorway.

"Oh, it's never a good thing when you two look that depressed." The pair both turned to stare as a red mech teased them from his relaxed position. It took a moment longer for Bumblebee to make the connection in his processor.

"Whoa, Cliffjumper?! You got your fourth frame upgrades!"

"Sure did!" The young adult smirked, stepping inside the room and moving over the crouch beside the two of them. "Haven't seen you guys in a few groons. How're ya doing?"

"We're bored." Dragonfly stated, rolling to her pedes and giving the mech a hug. "But that'll change, now that you're here!"

"Glad to be of service." He said dryly. "I was only planning on stopping in for a few kliks, though, since my creators are busy in that big meeting downstairs..." The dual whines of protest got him laughing again. "Here, now, I tell you guys what: I'm going out to meet some friends in a little bit, and maybe I could let you two tag along t' meet 'em. How's that sound? Get out of this stuffy estate, see a little of the city, meet some new mechs and femmes..." Cliff trailed off enticingly.

It took less than a nanoklik for both Bumblebee and Dragonfly to start nodding vigorously in agreement. Grinning widely, Cliffjumper led them out of the room, down the hall, and into the servant's elevator. He paused long enough to grab a hover-cart of cleaning supplies and get the younglings settled onto the center of the thing, placing an empty bucket over the two of them, before activating the floor selector.

They were nearly caught when the elevator opened in the garage beneath the estate, and Cliff stalled as he came faceplate to faceplate with a cobalt blue femme.

"Hey, carrier..." He tried (and failed) to keep the nervousness out of his words, but Cliff's voicebox betrayed him on that score. Chromia arched an optic-ridge at him.

"And just what are you doing with this?" She asked, tapping a digit against the metal cart. The overturned bucket twitched slightly, and the young mech scrambled to keep his femme creator's attention.

"Oh, well, uh, one of the cleaners upstairs asked me to drop this off for him - guess the tiny terrors caused some kind of mess he had to go deal with." That earned a small smile from Chromia, as the older Cybertronian herself had often helped with the incidents Bee and Fly had created when they were smaller and more accident prone. She and Elita had been friends for many vorns, and as the other femme had contributed a fair amount of assistance when Cliffjumper had been a sparkling, Chromia was eager to return the favor.

Everyone had been so excited for the pair when Optimus and Elita-One were expecting their firstborn - there had been the tank-churning tension when complications arose over the delivery, but little B3 had come through, though the medics strongly advised 'Lita not to try and bear another sparkling for several vorns to come. And then, not even a full vorn later to everyone's shock and joy, Megatron revealed that he'd crafted a sparkling frame in secret, and had taken it to Vector Sigma to receive the gift of life from the ancient artifact.

Lost in her memory files, Chromia allowed her fully grown creation to slip past with only a warning rap to the side of his horned helm. To say Cliffjumper was surprised would have been a gross understatement.

Once the elevator doors slid closed on his creator, Cliff sighed in relief, before he tipped the bucket to one side and exposed the widely grinning younglings.

"Guess we're lucky you two are both on the small side." He mused, transforming into his alt mode - a large but sleek vehicle, designed with both power and speed in mind. "Hop in, sparklets!"

Bee and Fly hurriedly clambered down from the cart and then up into their friend's cabin, allowing his cable belts to help secure them into place. "Where are we gonna go, Cliffy?" Dragonfly asked, her turquoise optics alight with glee.

"Either of you ever heard of Maccadam's Oil House?"

"Yeah... A lot of the grown-ups have mentioned it before." Bumblebee said slowly. "Isn't that where they go to have weird energon and start acting silly?"

The older mech had to suppress a snort of amusement. "Well, I guess you could describe it like that... Sometimes, yeah, but my friends and I just like to go there to relax a bit. And you two are a little on the young side to be consuming any 'weird energon' or anything else in there, so we'll stick to just talking and enjoying ourselves, okay? On the way back, I promise I'll get you each an ener-goodie, that sound alright?"

"Ye-es!" The pair of younglings cheered, reaching over to slap their servos together. This time, Cliffjumper didn't bother to hold back his laughter. He'd been helping to sparkling-sit the two practically their entire life-cycles, and he always got a kick out of seeing how excited they could be about such little things.

"Hey, wait a klik." Dragonfly suddenly spoke up, a concerned expression spreading across her faceplate. "If this Mech-a-deem's place is supposed to be for silly grown-ups, are we gonna be allowed in there?"

"Aw, don't worry about it, little Fly. I snuck you guys out of the Prime and Lord Protector's estate, didn't I? Sneaking you into Maccadam's will be easier than making the Hatchet blow a gasket." He chuckled with a hint of dark glee.

Bee's helm titled to one side as he considered the adult mech. "Who?"

"A very cranky medic who you better pray to Primus you never get on the wrong side of. He works in the lower regions of the city, doing a lot of repairs for bots who can't afford to get into a hospital."

"Then, how do you-?"

"Oh, I met him through my femme-friend Arcee and her sister. They're two of the bots you guys are about to meet, and they're really nice, even if Airachnid looks a little scary."

-ACfA-

"You're certain of this, Prowl?" Megatron asked, optics narrowed. The Enforcer merely nodded, tapping the data-pad with his notes as he continued.

"Two of my bondmate's contacts in Tarn would stake their sparks on this truthfulness of this information." He stated. "The scientist Shockwave has been gathering samples of Dark Energon for experiments of a criminal nature, as well as stockpiling many of the resources that are entered into the distribution system as meant for cities such as Kaon and Polyhex."

Optimus and Elita exchanged worried glances while Megatron's scowl deepened.

The Prime was the first to speak. "Then we must arrange a strike to arrest this Shockwave and undo the harm he has caused: return the supplies to their rightful destinations, remove any Dark Energon and destroy whatever research he has complied upon the substance."

"Agreed." Megatron nodded when his brother had finished. "Prowl, Barricade, how quickly can a suitably armed force be assembled to complete this task? And I would assume you two have schematics for the laboratories where this scientist resides?"

"I've already uploaded possible courses of action to your data-pads." The slightly older Enforcer nodded at the devices by each of his rulers. "And I'm sure Prowl can keep running scenarios through his processor while I conduct the normal affairs of our meeting, which, I believe is due to begin very shortly."

Elita checked her internal chronometer and quietly cursed. "Should have started already, you mean. We're lucky Ironhide had broken down our door yet."

"No, Chromia is joining us today - she's perfectly capable of keeping her bondmate's impatience in check." Optimus said with a small smile, servo grasping his own mate's and squeezing lightly.

Megatron snorted at his brother's statement. "I still find it a wonder that that femme has kept 'Hide in line all these vorns with minimal brawling."

"Not to mention raise a sparkling with the mech." Barricade added in as well. "Speaking of which, your pair of tiny terrors came running through here earlier. How are they faring these days?"

"As well as can be expected." Elita beamed. "We hope to start bringing in tutor bots for furthering their proper educations within another vorn or two."

Prowl nodded, though he frowned as well. "It would seem to me that they are of an age where interaction with other younglings would be more beneficial to development than a tutor."

All three of Cybertron's leaders paused as his words, and then sighed as one. Prowl shared a startled glance with his brother.

"Have I said something unwelcome?"

"No, Prowl, it's just... We've attempted to find some playmates for B3 and Little Flight before, but that resulted in nearly losing them to those political dissenters from Hive City." The adults all suppressed shudders at the mention of the nearly-successful kidnapping attempt from vorns before. A handful of mechs and femmes, dissatisfied with the efforts of the Prime and Lord Protector, had concocted a plot to use their own sparklings to gain the trust of and close proximity to the planetary leaders. If a new hiree to the estate's security staff, Red Alert, hadn't become suspicious and instigated some investigations, the group would have pulled off their attempt to steal away Bumblebee and Dragonfly for Primus only knew what dastardly intentions.

"Of course. I apologize for bringing it up."

-ACfA-

"It's a present for my femme-friend." Cliffjumper was explaining to the security mech who stood between him and the entrance to Maccadam's Oil House. Inside the hastily wrapped container he was clutching, the pair of younglings were struggling to muffle their giggles. "I want to really surprise her, and I'm worried that if I open this, it'll happen right as she or her sister decide to step outside to check for me, and that'll ruin it!"

The bouncer continued to glare at him, before suddenly gaining a hint of recognition in his optics. "Wait a klik here... You're old Ironhide's kid, aren't ya?"

"Yep!"

"Well... Alright. But if it turns out you snuck your own booze in, I won't be tellin' the management - I'll be takin' it straight to your old mech, got it?" Cliff visibly shuddered.

"Yeah, that's definitely the worse threat. I promise, no contraband, just a surprise for my femme."

"Go on in, then, and tell your creator's Warpath sends along his regards."

"Will do!" Cliffjumper called back as he walked through the sliding doors. Inside, the noise of the street was replaced by the infinitely more cheerful sounds of mechs and femmes enjoying decent high grade in good company. Cliff had to duck and weave his way through the crowded joint, nodding in response to various greetings from adults who also recognized him from the vorns of being towed in here by his creator. Some day, the red mech promised himself, he'd be hailed as his own bot, not the son of a local hero. It would just take a few vorns of coming in when he _wasn't_ in Ironhide's shadow.

Almost all the way at the back of the room was the long table that Cliff and his friends usually had to themselves. The group of young adults were careful to maintain their own boundaries, an effort which the management was willing to go along with, especially after that one time that an overcharged mechc had tried to cop a feel on Arcee, and she'd kicked his aft halfway across the oil house.

The very next orn, Cliffjumper had asked her out on their first date.

At the moment, it was Arcee, Airachnid, Burr, Smokescreen, Firestar, the feline cassettes Ravage and Steeljaw, and Sideswipe - who, shockingly, _wasn't_ accompanied by his twin brother Sunstreaker. The lot of them were spread fairly evenly on the benches around the table, though there was a conspicuously large gap in between 'Cee and Steeljaw, which Cliff immediately inserted himself into.

"Hello, all!" He said cheerfully, setting down the container in front of him. The others allowed their conversation to drop off as their attention was claimed by Cliffjumper's arrival and package.

"Dare I ask what that's for?" Arcee asked with a sly smile as she slipped an arm around her mech-friend's waist."

"You can, but you might smack me once I've explained." Cliff stated unabashedly. Ravage growled playfully, sending a quick data-burst to each of their internal comms.

 _*He told Warpath it was a surprise for you, Arcee.*_ The cassette's audial units flicked with amusement as Cliff scowled at her.

"Uh-oh. Prepare to be embarrassed, 'Cee." Airachnid teased from across the table, while Sideswipe chortled.

"I already would be, getting a present from my date with _that_ oh-so-professional wrapping job." The lone twin put in.

"Oh, can it, you two." Cliffjumper grumbled. "And yeah, it's a surprise, but not just for Arcee - I told you guys the other day that I'd be coming by after I stopped off at the Prime's residence, right?"

More than a little worried at what her mech-friend had slipped inside, Arcee was already removing the flimsy lead sheeting from the container even as he explained, and then cautiously lifted the lid.

Two pairs of bright, curious optics peered back out at her.

Arcee didn't shriek. She didn't so much as twitch a servo. She did, however, hiss a warning out of the side of her mouth. "Cliff, what were you _thinking?!"_

"Eh? Oh."

"What? What did he bring, 'Cee?" Blurr asked, leaning across the table. Glaring, Arcee completely removed the lid and pushed the container further away from her. As one, all the young adults gasped as a pair of younglings popped their helms out to look around.

"Hi!" The yellow one spoke first. "I'm-"

" _Beta Trion?"_ Firestar hissed, her yellow optics going wide with alarm. "You kidnapped _Beta Trion_ and _Flightmaster?!"_

"Those aren't our names yet." The green femmeling beat Cliffjumper's response. "They will be when we get bigger, like all of you, but right now I'm just Dragonfly and he's Bumblebee."

"And Cliff didn't kidnap us," her cousin put it. "He said we could come meet his friends and they he'd get us each an ener-goodie before we go home. Are you all Cliff's friends?"

"We sure are!" Blurr, having gotten over his initial shock at seeing the heirs to Cybertron's top political stations, was nearly bouncing in his seat with excitement. "My designation's Blurr, Miss-Many-Limbs here is Airachnid, that's Sideswipe moping at the end down there, the cyber-kitties are Ravage and Steeljaw, they're cousins, over there's the over-reactor Firestar (we totally blame her adopted creator for that), the femme who just let you guys out is Arcee, and this is Smokescreen."

"We've actually met, a couple different times." The blue and yellow Praxian smirked. "My creator Prowl still complains about you two a lot."

"He says we're in-corr-ig-ib-le." Dragonfly stated proudly while Bee glanced around.

"Smokey?" The yellow mechlet suddenly asked. "Where's Blue?" He was answered by a groan from the end of the table as Sideswipe thunked his helm down.

"On a date with my brother." The red and black mech said miserably. "And I don't want to hear any of you tell me to get over it, not when I can feel how much fun they're having."

"Sucks to be a split-spark twin." Airachnid said sympathetically, before turning her attention back to the pair of younglings. "So... You two are really the Prime and Lord Protector's kids? I kinda thought you were just a myth..."

"Why?" Fly wondered aloud.

"Well, no one's seen you out in public before, or at least not in a long time-"

"Can you blame their creators?" Firestar asked, crossing her arms in a huff of exvented air. "After that scare six vorns ago, with those terrorists from Hive City?" Some of her annoyed posture faded with the dual glares from Arcee and Airachnid, whose creators had come from that particular city-state. "Um... Anyway. Red says that the best security, at least until they're older, is to keep them _safely inside their creators' estate."_ She said this last part pointedly at Ciffjumper, who raised his servos in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, I admit it, bringing them out here may have not been particularly safe or smart, but these two have just about exhausted all the options for having fun in that place." The red mech explained. "I just wanted to give them a little taste of freedom, and then I'll take 'em straight back."

"After ener-goodies." Bee reminded him, sending a wave of chuckles through the group.

"Right, forgive me for that slip - after I get the promised ener-goodies." Cliff amended.

"No, after _we_ get the goodies." Stated little Dragonfly matter-of-factly. That got all of the young adults to laugh outright.

"Besides," Cliffjumper said when they'd managed to calm down a bit. "With the nine of us keeping an optic on 'em, there's no way anything can happen to these pipsqueaks." Even Firestar had to admit defeat at that - despite vorns of being influenced by the paranoia of one her caretakers, the femme was still at that age when the overconfidence of youth had not yet been tempered with the wisdom of adulthood.

-ACfA-

"...And we'll send any surplus of the mines' productions to the Altihexian markets."

"Thank you, Ultra Magnus. If that concludes the economic aspects of this meeting, then I would like to allow Enforcer Prowl to present his findings upon a distressing matter." Optimus nodded to the black and white mech, allowing him to take command of the meeting floor. Briefly, Prowl outlined the same reports he'd shared with the trio of planetary leaders earlier, though he had to pause more often on this go-round to allow the gathered mechs and femmes time to murmur amongst themselves as they processed the new information.

Once Prowl came to the end of the presentation, he added a piece of information he'd only come to realize in the back of his processor while the meeting had been discussing resource distribution. "It is my belief that Shockwave may have been a Quintesson lackey during the war, or at the very least stole much of their technological work shortly before we sent the last of the invaders off of Cybertron."

 _That_ certainly caused an uproar, startling even Megatron and Optimus from their thoughts. Before either the Prime or Lord Protector could recover, it was Elita-One who called for order in the meeting hall.

"Ladies, gentlemechs, please." The femme admonished them, before returning her attention to the Enforcer. "Are you sure of this, Prowl?"

"It would be a logical explanation for his activities and goals, as I cannot fathom another reason why such a previously respected scientist would plunge himself into so corrupted an endeavor." He stated flatly. "Were I unsure, I would not have brought it up."

"If you have no doubts, Prowl, them you have just supplied us with probable cause to instigate an intensive search into all of Shockwave's holdings." Megatron spoke up. "I would like to ask you and Barricade to make this your highest priority."

"It already is, Lord Protector Megatron." The other Enforcer stepped forward. "You have our promise, we'll have a plan in place to step in and seize the mech and his laboratories by the end of next orn."

"Thank you both. Then, I think it is time to call this meeting at an end." Optimus moved to the doorway as it opened, and made sure to grasp the servo of and thank every official who exited. They all offered assurances of support in one form or another, until at last all had departed.

Or at least, all the one's not on familiar terms with the Prime and his family.

Once the doors closed, Optimus turned to see that several of his and Megatron's old friends and supporters had remained, clearly intent on another goal.

Starscream, one of the Winglords of Vos, had begun assisting Barricade and Prowl with gathering up their data-pads as he engaged the two in quiet conversation. The two pairs of bondmates, Ironhide with Chromia and Strika with Lugnut, were commiserating together on the trials of their younglings becoming fully realized adults, while Ultra Magnus stood to one side with Megatron and Elita.

Stretching his sore back struts, Optimus returned to the large table as his close allies gathered together again.

"So, how are the tiny terrors doing lately?" Starscream inquired with a knowing gleam in his optics. "Still sowing destruction in their wake, or so I hear the staff complaining on my way here."

"When it comes to playing Tag, they never seem to see grown bots as anything other than obstacles to utilize." Optimus mused with a small smile. The others chuckled quietly, before the mood reverted to a more somber one.

"And, Alpha Trion?" Chromia tried to ask gently.

Both Optimus and Megatron shared a tired look before the latter answered. "He, continues. The independent medic we hired to examine him once a decaorn reports that the regression of spark strength is to be expected, though his processor remains strong."

"Did he have an idea of how long...?"

Optimus sighed. "A few more vorns of remaining in his current state, and then a brief period of rapid deterioration before he becomes one with the Allspark."

"Our deepest condolences." Strika murmed. The others made noises of assent, knowing the grief that the brothers felt at the looming loss of a mech who had done so much to help shape them into the leaders that they were. Alpha Trion's condition had been in decline for the last two hundred vorns, ever since the Quintesson ambush that ravaged his internal systems and nearly destroyed the ancient Cybertronian. He'd held on surprisingly well for a mech of his age, one that stretched back nearly to the dawn of the recorded era, but the last decavorn had seen him moving even more slowly than usual.

"Will a public memorial service be held?" Ultra Magnus inquired, thinking of the many contributions that Alpha Trion had made for Cybertronian society throughout his life cycle.

"We were thinking more along the lines of a private ceremony, just family and close friends." Optimus said quietly. "Really, not many more than those of us gathered here now - there are few and far between in the general population who still hold Alpha in the regard that we do."

"Do th' pipsqueaks know yet?" Ironhide asked gruffly, stoically refusing to admit to his own grief, at least for the time being.

"I'll be the one to explain it to them tonight." Megatron couldn't help the involuntary smirk. "It seems I'll be doing most of the serious talks with those two, since neither of these two wants to admit to B3 how his spark came into being as opposed to Flight's." Humor returned to the room's occupants as both Optimus and Elita tried to stammer out objections and failed miserably.

"Well, I better get along and make sure the little ones are keeping out of trouble." Chromia interjected. "I crossed paths with Cliff just before the meeting started, and he said something about the pair making a big mess for the servants to deal with earlier."

The trio of creators groaned as one. "I knew that game of Tag was liable to get out of hand." Elita said darkly. "I'll come with you, 'Mia, and if I find out those two didn't help clean up the result of their shenanigans..."

Megatron snorted, while Optimus gave his bondmate a gentle nudge towards the door. "I'm sure you'll handle it appropriately, dear spark."

"Don't you 'dear spark' me, not if you know what's good for you..." Elita's dark mutterings faded as she stomped out of the meeting hall, an amused Chromia trailing along behind her. The remaining Cybertronians shared a few moments of subdued laughter, before the conversation moved towards Starscream's recent processor aches from his youngest trine mate Skywarp's incessant pranks upon the citizens of Vos.

By the time she reached the central staircase, Elita's annoyance had faded, and the femme paused long enough for her old friend to catch up.

"I wouldn't complain so much if I were you." Chromia teased lightly as they moved up to the second floor. "At least Bee and Fly only cause accidents - when Cliff was their age, he was a terrible troublemaker, always trying to find ways of inciting destruction. Painting the walls with energon, climbing the data-pad shelving units and sending them crashing to the floors; the worst were all the times he snuck out to play with his friends, despite knowing full well 'Hide and I were punishing him by keeping the little scamp at home."

Elita grimaced, suddenly thankful for her very well-behaved son and his cousin. As the two femmes walked towards the central hallway that led down to the various private quarters, one of the cleaning staff appeared from the same direction and paused to bow before starting past them.

"Oh, Wreck-Gar?" The red and brown mech halted and looked back to Elita. "Was the mess that B3 and Flight caused taken care of?"

"Mess?" The cleaner asked, puzzled. "Mess, what mess, m'lady? Pair o' scamps been quiet as glitch-mice, tucked up in B3's burrow, not made a sound since you meeting been going on. No mess they've made this mornin'."

"But, what was Cliffjumper talking about earlier...?" The femmes exchanged confused glances, which slowly morphed to concern. Wreck-Gar shuttered his optics in surprise as the pair hurried onwards.

"Bumblebee-?!" Elita called as she burst in through the door of her son's berth room.

Neither of the younglings was present.

"No. No, no, no..." She stumbled back, bumped into Chromia, and dashed towards Dragonfly's room, which was also devoid of cheerful younglings. "No!" Before Elita could go tearing through every room on the floor level, Chromia grabbed her arms and forced the younger femme to hold still.

"'Lita, look at me! They aren't here, but that doesn't mean something bad has happened! It just means my son is being an idiot, as usual." The blue femme growled. "Now, you take a minute to calm your systems, and I'll comm. him."

-ACfA-

"...But then, as if evading the cheaters wasn't enough, the instant Blurr crossed the finish line, his back hover-pads ruptured!" Sideswipe's servos mimed the catastrophe, holding Bee and Fly's full attention. "It was all he could do not to slam into the retaining wall!"

While the older mech regaled the younglings with his repertoire of true stories, the others around the table enjoyed their mid grade and talked away the joors. Cliffjumper in particular was feeling very content - his little friends were enjoying themselves, his bigger friends had become quickly attached to the pipsqueaks, and all Cliff himself had to do at the moment was sip his energon with one the servo, while the other held Arcee close to his side. Despite the noise washing over them from the rest of the establishment, this table held all the peace he needed in life.

Until, that was, Cliff's private comm. line buzzed, and he unthinkingly opened it without checking the caller's identity.

 _*Hellooo?*_

 _ ***Cliffjumper, where are those younglings?!***_

The sudden scream of his femme creator caused the young mech to jump in his seat, which unbalanced himself and Arcee enough that the two of them crashed to the floor.

"Ow! Cliff, what the frag-?!"

"Not now 'Cee!" Desperately, Cliffjumper tried to dial down the internal volume of his comm., to no avail.

 _ ***Do you have any idea of how much you've managed to terrify Elita-One? Or how serious of a security breach you've caused?! Just when I think you're starting to mature into a responsible adult, you go and do something like this-!***_

"Cybertron Command to Cliffjumper, hello Cliff, what's going on in there?" Airachnid had come around the table to help her disgruntled sister up, and was now waving a servo in front of Cliffjumper's terror-stricken faceplate.

He groaned as the tirade on the comm. line continued. "My carrier's going to kill me."

"Aunt 'Mia?" Bee asked, as Sideswipe's storytelling had been cut off by the dramatic interruption. "Why's she that mad at you?"

"I'm gonna bet it's for sneaking the two of you out to here." Firestar said dryly, the cassettes nodding in agreement. "Either that, or he didn't clean his berth room after she told him to a million times."

"Hey!" Sadly, Cliffjumper could put up a bigger protest than that, because his creator had finally finished her screaming and was now demanding his and he younglings' location.

 _*Carrier, it's fine, I just brought them out to Maccadam's to-*_

 _ ***The Oil House? Have you fried your CPU?! I don't even want to consider how much danger you've put them in by bringing those younglings there!***_

 _*Honestly, carrier, what danger? The pipsqueaks were bored, so I brought them here to meet some of my friends, and we've been having a great time. No one's even noticed that there's a couple younglings with us, or if they have, they'd just as soon assume that they're some of Rav' or Steel's siblings.*_

 _ ***Even so, I'm sending a squad of Enforcers to come pick them - AND YOU - up right this instant.***_

Cliffjumper groaned. Of all the ways he'd pictured this day turning out, being chucked into a detainment cell definitely wasn't one of them. He tried to placate Chromia, but only succeeded in getting her to yell at him some more before she closed her end of the communication.

Looking up from where he was still sitting on the floor, the mech found ten pairs of optics staring at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Uh... So. Chromia called. Long story short, she's torqued off, I'm in trouble, and Enforcers are going to show up here any minute for the pipsqueaks."

Bee and Fly groaned simultaneously. "But we don't wanna go!" They protested, the words _nearly_ in sync with the other.

"Not my decision to make, guys. Though, I'd suggest screaming at the tops of your voiceboxes once those officers get here..."

"Don't listen to him." Smokescreen warned the younglings. "Trust me. Enforcers only get nastier if you don't cooperate - vorns of being hauled home by my creator's underlings has proven that time and again." The others agreed, grudgingly, with Smokescreen's advice, though Airachnid was a little distracted as she stared thoughtfully at the crowded room.

"Cliff, I gotta ask, doesn't your carrier usually know what she's doing?" The femme suddenly asked.

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Sending a bunch of law-bots into this place is really bad idea on a good day, but right now? When it's the right time of day for the tables to be full of overcharged bots who don't do 'honest work'? That's just begging for trouble."

The rest of the young adults considered her words, and Cliff got more and more worried as he realized that the spider-femme was completely correct. Plenty of places on Cybertron, even the more run-down regions of Iacon, still hosted black markets and the businesses that filled them. It was a side effect of the war they were still recovering from, one that Cliff knew his creators and the planetary leadership were working hard to try and rectify, but a continued fact of life even now. When poor miners or construction workers had to buy energon and other necessities with their hard-earned credits came to a choice between government suppliers or the cheap underground providers, they turned to where their money would go the farthest. Arcee and Airachnid came from that environment, as had Firestar before she'd become an orphan and was taken in by Red Alert and Inferno, so Cliff didn't judge it to be a wrong way of living - it was just a harsh reality...

A harsh reality, which, many poorer workers in Maccadam's were drinking high grade to get away from. There had been recent scuffles in places like Kaon and Tarn between Enforcers and those fed-up with the slow progress of the government, and Cliffjumper realized that those situations matched his current setting nearly perfectly.

Which meant he had to get the younglings out of here _before_ the Enforcer squad arrived and set off this fusebox. Maybe his carrier had been right about the danger after all. Oops.

"Right then," Cliff said anxiously. "Bee, Fly, time for us to go."

"But-"

"No, none of that, I said you guys could scream at the Enforcers, that doesn't mean you can argue with _me._ "

The younglings glared at him sullenly, but kept quiet. Cliffjumper was just a tad too slow, though - in the same instant he hopped to his pedes, the front doors of the oil house slid open, and half a dozen bots with the distinctive Enforcer badge adorning their paintjob entered.

It took a few moments, but the crowded room fell silent as all optics turned to take in the group at the entrance, who clearly weren't there to enjoy themselves. Cliff watched as the one in the lead, a femme with coppery red plating, lifted a servo and pointed towards him and the younglings. She and the others began to force their way through the frozen crowd, but had only managed to come about a quarter of the way when somebot stuck out their pede and tripped up the Enforcer femme.

Instantly, everything went to the Pit.

Granted, the six Enforcers managed to avoid taking damage from most of the sloppily thrown punches aimed at them, but then some great hulking brown bot pried a table loose from its bolted position on the floor, and swung the thing around like a battering ram. He succeeded in knocking one silver Enforcer mech to the ground, but got several other overcharged bots in the process, and then half the crowd went from shouting and throwing things at the intruders to brawling with each other.

Cliffjumper stumbled back from it all, trying to make a snatch for the now-terrified Bee and Fly. A burly mech with red paint almost to match his own crashed into him, though, and Cliff found himself on the floor once again. Craning his helm upwards, the young mech was in the perfect position to see Arcee knock away another hefty oil house patron - causing him to land heavily against their table, jarring the whole thing and sending the tiny youngling flying through the air.

Feeling like he was about to purge the entire contents of his tank, Cliffjumper scrambled to his pedes, stumbling as more brawlers slammed against him. He ended up pushing a bench out of the way and sliding himself underneath a table while he tried to figure out what he was going to do, and how to get the arguably two most important younglings on Cybertron out of this mess.

Then, the very bench he had just shoved aside was hurled into the tight space, thunking Cliff on the helm, _hard_. His optics went dark, and the young mech's frame slumped into unconsciousness.

Dragonfly had never been more terrified in her life. There was noise and fighting and bots _everywhere_ and it was all the slim femmeling could do to crouch down and cling to a table support strut, staring about in horror. Somewhere in her processor was the urge to start crying - for Bee, for Cliff, for her Creator - but Fly was too stubborn to give in to that. She was the sole creation of Megatron, Lord Protector of all Cybertron, and she'd have to be a lot more scared than this to allow fear to control her.

A pair of struggling mechs, each trying to pummel the other into oblivion, nearly rolled right over her, and Dragonfly let out an involuntary whimper when one of them crushed the corner of one of her wing nubs against the support strut.

 _I want to go home,_ she thought miserably.

Suddenly, a warm set of gleaming jaws were closing around the scruff bar at the top of her back struts, and Fly squeaked when she was lifted from the ground. Steeljaw rumbled in her audios, a sound that the youngling took to mean reassurance, before the two of them were bounding through the chaos. The feline cassette was almost flying - the softened pads of his pedes barely seemed to touch the ground or the furniture, yet pair of them dodged every obstacle without a scratch.

If Dragonfly hadn't been hanging on to that residual terror, she might almost have enjoyed it as much as going flying with her Creator.

Not even a full minute later, she was being shuttled into another's grasp, and the femmeling was sent on another wild ride, this time being held securely in Airachnid's servos as the grown bot used her extra limbs to climb up the wall and move across the ceiling.

"Like the view?" The spider-femme smirked down at her, not giving Fly any time to respond before they were exiting an open skylight. Sudden quiet reigned on the rooftop of Maccadam's, despite the shouts and crashes rising from the opening behind Airachnid's pedes.

"Well! So much for your very first night out." The smirk turned into a grimace at the sight of Dragonfly's scrunched wingtip, which, once the fear coursing through her systems faded away, began registering as painful. "Uh-oh."

Airachnid reached out a servo, touching one digit to the mangled metal and small leaks of energon and coolant. Fly flinched away, as her pain receptors in the area were still working just fine, and didn't see the dark look that passed over the adult femme's faceplate at the action.

"C'mon, kid, let's get you someplace that can be fixed up before we send you home." With a softer touch than before, Airachnid scooped her up, and set off towards the more run-down section of the city.

Meanwhile, Bumblebee was getting tired of being tossed around like a ball. He could no longer keep track of the number of times he'd changed hands in the chaos of the oil house - first Ravage had picked him up, only for somebot to step on the cassette's tail and she dropped him with a yowl. Then it was Sideswipe who dashed by and grabbed him by the arm, dropping Bee seconds later with Firestar, who held him close and tried to stay close to the edges of the room. There had been further changes since then, and Bumblebee had managed to completely lose track of Cliffjumper and Dragonfly.

As more and more bots started going to the floor and not getting back up again, there appeared a clear path to the main entrance - just in time for Arcee to hand him off to Blurr.

"Hang on tight, Bee!" The pale grey and blue mech warned him with a grin, and then the two were _running_.

It was the most exhilarating thing Bumblebee had ever experienced. Neither of his Creators could go this fast, even in their vehicle forms - this was closer to the speeds that his uncle Megatron could reach in his alt mode (not that Bee had remotely enjoyed the one occasion he'd gone flying). But as everything around him blurred away, Bee couldn't help but love the high speed.

Almost too soon, though, he and Blurr were stopped a few blocks away, the chaos of Maccadam's far behind them. "So, are you okay? Anything broken? Feel like you might purge?" The mech was asking questions almost as fast as they'd been moving, his concerned gaze checking every part of Bee's small frame, and not noticing the broad grin on the youngling's faceplate.

"That was _awesome!"_ Bumblebee cheered. Startled, Blurr shuttered his optics once, twice. Then a grin of his own stretched to meet Bee's in size, and the pair enjoyed a brief laugh together.

"Guess I'm used to most bots reacting badly to when I go that fast." Blurr chuckled.

"Really? I'd _love_ to be able to go that fast! How do you do it?"

"Oh, it's actually a malfunction that I've had since my second frame - about your age, I'd guess. My spark lets off excess energy that super-charges the energon circulating through my systems, so I can move at triple or quadruple the speeds of regular Cybertronians."

"Wow! That must be so much fun!"

"Yeah, I like being able to outrun everybot else. It also helps that I work as a long-distance courier - I can deliver stuff and be back at Headquarters in half the time of any of my co-workers." While they talked, Blurr was jogging down the Iaconian streets towards the other place he and his friends used to hang out, before they'd been old enough to get into Maccadam's. With all the dings and dents that Bumblebee had gained - and apparently not noticed yet - the adult mech wanted to see about getting him fixed up _before_ Cliffjumper had to bring the youngling back to Prime's estate.

With the instincts he'd developed over the vorns for avoiding trouble, Blurr knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that both Bee and his cousin needed to be in pristine condition when they arrived back home, or there was no telling how far the reach of angered planetary rulers might extend...

"So, where are we going?" The yellow mechlet had finally started looking around at their surroundings. The dingy buildings were unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and even if they weren't pleasant to observe, at least they were new.

"Hopefully, to the same place your cousin is, where we can get the two of you cleaned up a bit. Has Cliffjumper ever mentioned the name 'Ratchet the Hatchet' to you and Fly?"

Bee's helm tilted slightly as he thought. "I think so... He's a medic, right?"

"Only in the vaguest sense of the term. Anyway, he likes younglings, even if he seems to much of a grump for it. And his assistant can't stand it when a bot's plating looks like yours, so we should be able to get you buffed out and repainted pretty quickly." Bumblebee glanced down at himself, and noticed for the first time his numerous dents and scratches.

"Oh. Oops."

"Nah, it wasn't your fault. Let's just hope Cliff can hold off the bot-hunt long enough for us to get there and back."

"That'll be easy - if you go really fast again." Blurr grinned again at the hopeful glance, so he set his arms a little more tightly around the youngling and started running once more.

-ACfA-

Megatron had seen his brother in a number of moods over the long vorns of their life cycles. The basic emotions, of course. That brief time period when he'd been helm over pedes for one of their younger femme maids, made all the more hilarious by the fact that Optimus had barely come up to her waist. The intense horror they'd both felt when the Quintessons first attacked Cybertron - the processor-numbing grief when their Creators had perished. During the War, Optimus had worn a stoic expression over his emotions as an even greater shield than his battle mask. Then, his growing love for the leader of the Femme Battalion, Elita-One. the terrible fear when the sparking of their firstborn had nearly cost Optimus both his mate and his offspring, followed closely by the overwhelming joy as both came through healthy and whole. That same happiness had been what pushed Megatron into creating his own sparkling, which led to great exasperation shared by the brothers as their little ones grew and began their accident-prone games.

Never had he seen Optimus this furious.

Through the spark-bond that the brothers shared, dim as it might have been compared to that of a set of twins, Megatron could clearly feel the unsubdued rage of his younger, usually gentler sibling. The calm exterior he wore so often in times of crisis had been chattered, replaced by the fury of a creator terrified for their offspring's safety.

It was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever seen, and the only reason Megatron was not more awed with the change in Optimus was because he himself was experiencing a similar inferno of emotion, though considerably more contained. Both of their younglings had been taken from their home, snuck into a dangerous environment which had exploded into chaos.

And now, both of the little ones were missing.

Cliffjumper had been found among the rest of the subdued oil house patrons, with the Enforcer medic predicting it to take anywhere from one to four joors before he would awake and tell them what had happened. To Megatron, it was an excruciating but necessary wait. To Optimus, to was unacceptable, and the blue and red mech was still pacing the long corridors behind the meeting room, Elita wringing her servos and remaining by his side. Both would not rest until news of their son arrived.

One of the staff had asked Megatron if he could try and calm his brother down. He'd responded that such a thing would not be possible unless - until - Bumblebee and Dragonfly were returned unharmed.

And then he would bring the Pit down on the helms of whoever had stolen the younglings.


End file.
